Clandestine
by Ponella
Summary: The Doctor and the semi-reformed Master uncover a conspiracy worth a trip to England in the guise of two men working on an supposedly unassuming freighter, but is the cargo more alien than either of them can conceive? AUverse, Ten/Simm!Master slash-fic. Fem!Doc at the start totally me resolving the urge to get the Doctor into a dress.


**A/N:** Completely _blagged_ this, I think. Then again, I've probably been watching one too many murder mysteries lately than is good for me. Any mistakes are completely my fault (triple-editing isn't even enough these days) and as always, leave a review! Reviews are like the best gravy in the universe. And that's because I've currently got Sunday roasts on the brain :D Happy Sunday, everybody! If this even made it online by a Sunday…

Thoughts/telepathy thoughts in _italics_, with thought italics (hell, that's what I'm calling it) in **_italic bold_**.

**Chapter One **

I was smiling as we walked in tandem towards the throng of the party. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done this; much less the last time I'd done this with a _man_.

I'd gone out this way with real women as a jokingly masochistic act of 'fitting in' with a bunch of giggling human females. I felt right at home in the presence of women; I couldn't pinpoint why, but although sexual advances were made on my person (by both men and women) I was perfectly comfortable with the enjoyment that only a platonic relationship could inspire in me. In earlier years, I had sought out this comfort openly, going so far as to appear deceptively feminine – this was when I was in much younger bodies than a few of my earliest, thanks.

As the companions began to vary between mature and completely child-like in nature, my cross-dressing escapades had died down to the point of being non-existent. But while I was happy with life as a man, I frequently pined for my days in a scantily-cladding dress, when I could mingle with _both_ sexes and entire races would be none the wiser to my true gender. It also aided me in slipping away when some real trouble showed up – most civilized races didn't notice when one of the women ran away in fear of a crisis that it usually took the men to sort out, and thankfully most of these situations could be handled by either side of the planet's race while I carefully slipped out the back way and high-tailed it to the TARDIS, monitoring the unfolding chaos at the back of my mind while I went.

"You look gorgeous." it wasn't often the Master gave me a compliment, but I relished the loving side to him while it lasted. It also wasn't often we went to anywhere were large crowds were inevitable with the knowledge that the Master was on his best behaviour.

"You'd still be saying that if I were a man." I blushed, not at all shaken by the fact that the Master found both versions of his boyfriend interesting.

The other shook his head, "You're beautiful in whatever role you're carrying, my dear. And you know tonight is all for you."

Yes – the Master knew well of my other persona, and when I fancied a little jaunt as her, he'd decided this whole other person deserved to have fun as much as the ol' Doctor did. Of course, having a boyfriend-girlfriend was quite an exciting experience, both for the Master in the having and I in the being.

I nodded, quelling any fears, "This queue seems quite long. Do you think we should try somewhere else?"

"The TARDIS made a reservation for us while you were in the shower; this is the right place, and…" he held a blank wallet in my view, "She lent me this. I think she may be warming up to the idea of us being together."

"What did she put our names as?" I dreaded to think.

The Master graced the psychic paper with a cautionary glance, "Mr and Mrs Smith. Not very imaginative, is she?"

"Sometimes the best fake identity is an obvious one." I defended, nodding to the front of the crowd, "Let's see if you can make this go any quicker, _Mr Master_."

Doing just that, the Master pulled us to the front and completely ignored the TARDIS' suggestion as he flashed the psychic paper at the marginally unimpressed night-shifter. Suddenly the man's face lit up and he exclaimed, "Right away, your excellency!" and lead them through the door, shoving people aside to get to the exclusive area normally reserved for those at the level of a high-priced celebrity.

Seating us and once again trudging off hurriedly, I looked between both men and wondered exactly what the Master had called us.

Laughing at our own folly, the Master took a sip from one of the drinks that was already placed in front of us, "Live a little, Doctor. I though this was meant to be about fun?"

"I'll enjoy this date when you've told me what you told that doorman." I said, not accepting the visual nod to take a sip from my own drink.

"I told him you were a sexy supermodel." the Master replied, blatantly pleased with himself.

"I hardly think my disguise is that convincing."

"I don't know, I'm pretty turned on by you either way. Though I must admit, this you is much more… _voluptuous_ than I'd anticipated. I can't say I'm not pleased." a cheesy smirk made itself known on his face.

I couldn't be uncomfortable with the Master's gaze; not when he looked at him/her like _that_. The lustful admiration in his eyes outshone all the other patrons in the restaurant, "But really, what did you call us?"

The smirk widened, "That, and I was your hunky scientist boyfriend – which is mostly true."

"'Cept you're more of an experimentalist." I finished for him.

The TARDIS hated this lovey-dovey phase we seemed to be in, and the Master used this to his advantage to annoy her at every opportunity. In full view on somewhere not inside her walls, we had the sense to tone it down, but only to a level acceptable in our eyes – the rest of the world could sod off if they didn't like it.

Our food came, and thankfully we hadn't been booked in someplace that served minuscule portions of anything mashed or chopped half to in-edibility.

"You draw people in wherever you go; why is now any different?"

"The places and civilizations I visit, I've always been appreciated for my intelligence. That any offers I may receive tonight will be based purely on my looks will be… disconcerting."

"I'm certain they all know _I'm_ the only one who's going to be _appreciating_ every facet of your personality tonight." the Master ate his food, but I was still worried, so only managed half my meal.

Every second, it felt like eyes were on me – and not just those belonging to my lover. I was becoming aware of how I must have looked, but the Master's reassurance was enough to keep the majority of my squeamishness at bay.

That, and the dreamy bed eyes he was constantly employing that he knew destroyed some of my carefully constructed façade.

"Stop it." I growled, looking up from my food when I felt something rubbing against me knee – and the rest of me traitorously obliging to the wandering appendage under the table.

Laughing, the Master didn't dare look up from the remains of his meal, "I can assure you I don't know what you mean by such a horrendous accusation."

'_If you still value the ability to produce offspring, you'll put an end to this nonsense __**immediately**__._' I thought to him.

'_And if you value your false femininity, you'll let up on the frigidness for a while. This is meant to be about __**fun**__, Theta. Or aren't you __**fun**__ anymore?_' came his retort.

I sighed and decided to get through the rest of our date with as little mishaps as possible. He wouldn't really think of sabotaging my cover, would he?

'_This is __**the Master**__, of course he would!_'

"'Scuse me!" I exclaimed, getting up from my chair and grimacing at the resulting clatter, "Just need to pop to the loo!"

'_You gonna use the ladies'?_' that was a conundrum. He could use the ladies toilets perfectly well, but would he be able to keep up the womanliness to the same extent while he was doing the deed?

Walking towards the rest-rooms was easy. Okay, good start. Walking through the door was a tester, but somehow I managed it. Stepping into a cubicle was simple enough; women urinated in a proper toilet, didn't they? Admittedly, he preferred the toilets to standing exposed in front of a bunch of men's urinals, and the women's lavatories often had bigger mirrors than in the men's.

Surprised to find that there were no other women in the room, I was in the nearest cubicle in seconds, relief flooding my system as something else imminently flooded out.

I was shocked to hear the opening of a door a minute later, but that shouldn't surprise me; women had urine to get rid of too, right?

What shook me out of my relief was the sound of the door opening again, and then male voices arriving at my ears. Two male voices, clearing speaking under the assumption that they would not be overheard.

"I hardly see this as the perfect meeting place, boss. Don't most secret organizations have secret headquarters?"

The elder of the two voices replied, "Don't be stupid! This is an undercover operation, we do this somewhere that's inconspicuous. Besides, no lass has been in here since the scandal about what's _really_ in the hand-soap."

There was a pause, and perhaps the dimmer of the two had nearly washed with said ill-fated soap, but I couldn't be sure. Was I found out? The two men started talking again, and I scolded myself to hold onto the presence of mind that had been keeping my reactions under control until now. I really hoped the Master was hearing all this through our bond, or else I was on my own.

'_Not now!_' I shouted inside my mind, feeling the reaction of… _other parts_ of my being. It was purely the Master getting me back for my earlier irritation, and I knew it. Why else would he have closed off our link _just_ enough that it almost seemed like the erection was my body's own doing? Ignoring my needs for the time being, I instead continued to listen in on the conversation before me.

"We've got a van that'll get the product out of the country no problem, and it can be in the next country in a matter of hours."

The younger spoke, "You worry about the transportation; I'll worry about what we'll be transporting."

'_Illegal trafficking! …of something. Or __**some-people**_.' I thought. A mystery worth solving! If only they'd leave… then maybe I could sneak out and follow them. Perchance, the Master would even be willing to join me on this new sleuthing exercise. Oh, the _excitement_!

'_I know you're listening, Master. Perhaps you would be so good as to create a diversion?_' a superior racket followed, and I was able to slip out of the lavatory with the two privateers none the wiser.

"You could have warned me; I'd say you _wanted_ us to get kicked out of the restaurant."

"You're just lucky the staff believed the fault was completely on their part. Nice work with the diversion – next time we eat there it'll be free of charge."

We were keeping a close watch on the men in front of us, and once again they had no idea of the danger they were putting themselves in.

'_If those men had discovered you, they wouldn't have lived to see to the delivery they're so preoccupied with._' he thought to me, not a hint of humour in the way they were said. Those men would have been dead in a nanosecond of the time it would have taken his love to find them, and the act would have been remorseless on the Master's part.

My raging erection had calmed down for now, but there was no telling what effect the Master's nearness in such a deadly situation would have on my anatomy. I wondered if the Master was having the same problem, but he seemed perfectly calm in his surroundings.

The men turned off, and their route became increasingly complex; obviously the job they had been given was under someone who knew what they were doing, but the two Time Lords were quick to keep up.

**A/N:** And… CLIFFHANGER! Because I can, and I missed writing them.

It wouldn't be the first time David Tennant's dressed in drag; anyone remember his extended cameo in an episode of 'Rab C Nesbitt'? Admittedly, it's a very old episode that probably nobody remembers, but it was hilarious nonetheless.

Incidentally, it's damn hot here on the English coast (Well, I say _coast_ – we live in a coastal town) and this entire fic could easily be the result of heatstroke. Let the heatwave last, I say! For as long as my current supply of writing juice does, anyway.


End file.
